


Catch Me If I Fall

by dovingbird



Category: Sorted (Website) RPF
Genre: First Time, M/M, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-30 01:40:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10150310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dovingbird/pseuds/dovingbird
Summary: "Did you ever notice that I fancy blokes?"~~~For all that Ben knows, the only reason he's at Jamie's flat is to cook him and his wife dinner for their anniversary. How it turned into polyamory negotiations and snogging Jamie on his couch, he has absolutely no idea. But he's not complaining.





	

**Author's Note:**

> TW for very brief mentions of pot smoking, choking, almost vomiting, bruising, and rough sex.

Ben sags into the counter, safe in the kitchen. God. You'd think that after over a decade of doing this cooking thing for real maybe he'd have sunk into a routine already, especially when presenting dishes to people, but this was different. This night had been important. It had nothing to do with Ben's own prestige and everything to do with one of his best friends.  
  
Honestly, he thrived on doing things for them. The cake for Barry's wedding, for example, had been a challenge, one that had sent him after a blunt when he got back to his flat, but it had gone well. People had been thrilled. His first rustic wedding cake had gone on Instagram, YouTube, and Facebook, in front of hundreds of thousands of eyes on all of those sites with loud fanfare. But Barry's reaction had been more important than any of them. Good old Baz had grinned and wrapped his arms around Ben and whispered such a quiet, sincere _thank you_ into his ear that there was no doubt in his mind exactly how tipsy Barry was.  
  
It had been a good night, all things considered, even with a shitty kitchen to work with. And tonight, he thinks, has been just as good.  
  
Ben had never cooked a meal for an anniversary before this one, and he's also rather sure that no one would ask him to, but this was a special occasion. Jamie'd come back from a phone call earlier that day, kicking a stool leg, barely holding himself together. _"So guess who double booked our reservations?"_ he'd asked. _"Some kid still revising his fucking A Levels, probably, has no business working in a hoity toity place like that if he can't use a bloody computer system to track dinner reservations."_  
  
Teasing hadn't gone over well, as might be expected, even Barry's particular manner of fooling around where he brightly said that Jamie and his wife could have a romantic dinner at Poppies instead. So what does a loyal friend like Ben with way too much time on his hands do? Offer to cook for them, of course. He knew Jamie's tastes after so many years, and Jamie knew Lucy's well enough - or so Ben hoped, given that Jamie had known Lucy since they were itty bitty babes. It hadn't taken long to swing by the market to pick up the ingredients, nor was it a stretch to pull some of the fancier pieces from his own pantry to make it even more elegant.  
  
Anyway, even if Ben _hadn't_ wanted to help - and he did, with every fiber of his being - what was he going to use as an excuse? A rousing social life? A girlfriend? A boyfriend? All of it was laughable. Ben was picky when it came to long term commitments. He was the pickiest person he knew. And when it came right down to it, even if he _had_ had plans, he knows he would've turned them down in a second if it meant having only a flash of the sheer gratitude that had passed Jamie's face when Ben offered.  
  
Remembering it warms Ben even now. He lets it linger for a moment, tingles spreading down his arms, electricity spurring his heart to pound faster. And then he lets it all out in a long, deep exhale.  
  
There's dishes to wash, after all, rather than dreams to consider.  
  
Even as big a proponent as he is of cleaning as he goes, there's still a number of plates to take care of. He's already taken their appetizer plates and their dinner plates and left them with their dessert - the sticky toffee pudding that Jamie fell so in love with a couple of years ago. He plans to have the kitchen looking spotless before he leaves them for the evening. It wouldn't be odd to sneak out the front, would it? Not on their special day. They need their alone time. They need to celebrate together in...in whatever way they choose.  
  
Ben absolutely does not need to walk in on them snogging on the sofa, for example, that would be very, very bad.  
  
His cheeks are still flushed as he gently handwashes the plates and dries them with the towel dangling from his back pocket. There's too much to consider there, things that drag him into endless cycles of contemplation until it's four in the morning and he still hasn't changed out of his clothes from filming. He can't get stuck in that tonight. He's a man of science and has no idea what he believes in terms of the spiritual realm, but he refuses to fill this flat with any negative energy on such a happy occasion.  
  
Jamie and Lucy are a fantastic match. They've known each other far longer than they've known him. They fit together in ways that Ben could never understand.  
  
Lucy knows things about Jamie that Ben will never be able to fathom. And that's all right. That's perfect. That's exactly how the universe should be. And Ben is too selfless of a man not to be satisfied with his lot.  
  
He sags over the sink long enough to take a cleansing breath, but as he starts to put the dishes away he realizes it's gone silent in the flat, and that's a bit odd given that Jamie had put on music to serenade them as they dined. God, have they already retired to the bedroom? It might be better for Ben that way. He can clean the dessert plates and leave everything impeccable, like a good little elf.  
  
He's only just put the last of the pans away when Jamie appears around the door frame, and Ben jumps an inch away. "Whoa there," Jamie says. "You all right?"  
  
"Perfectly all right!" Ben touches his chest, feeling like an old woman recovering from a fright. "You surprised me is all. Is everything okay?"  
  
Jamie stares for a few seconds, then seems to remember he has the two dessert plates in his hand. "Yeah, no, of course, perfectly all right." Jamie clears his throat and shuffles forward. "Thought I-I might give you a hand with the dishes, but they. Appear to already be done."  
  
"Not all of them." Ben reaches for the plates, but Jamie pulls out of his reach. "Honestly, Jamie, I can wash a couple of dishes myself," he says with a grin. "I'm perfectly capable of not breaking your plates."  
  
"Oh really?" Jamie asks with a sharp laugh. "That what your fancy cooking studies did? Teach you how to be a pretty maid?"  
  
"Oh, grow up," Ben murmurs, feeling his cheeks go hot, and Jamie chuckles again. Honestly, Ben takes pride in his quipping abilities and the fact that it's so hard to get to him, but he's not exactly on his A game right now. "You don't need to be washing dishes on your anniversary."  
  
"Well, that's just silly," Jamie says as he dunks the plates in the water and rolls up his sleeves. "I'm not exactly paying you, Ben." He glances over and grins. "Though actually...you've done a stellar job; tell me, what are your rates?"  
  
"More than you can afford," Ben drawls. He feels at odd ends when he doesn't have something to do or a drink in his hand, especially when he's near someone who makes his body go so electric. He settles for drying his hands in his tea towel while Jamie washes. "Did Lucy put you up to this? I-I told her she doesn't owe me anything, but-"  
  
"Lucy?" Jamie sounds so perplexed by the mere name that Ben blinks. "Oh, uh, Lucy, she went to work."  
  
Silence. "To work," Ben states.  
  
"Yeah," Jamie says even though it absolutely wasn't a question.  
  
"On your anniversary night."  
  
"I don't control her schedule, mate," Jamie says. Each syllable is short and snippy, and Ben wrinkles his brow, staring at him. It sounds less like Jamie is upset and more like he's parsing through something far faster than he should.  
  
Ben considers Jamie's tone while Jamie rinses the plates and tugs the towel out of his hand. It's not like he would lie about this if Lucy was upset about something and went to get some fresh air, and Lucy does indeed work enough nights for it not to be surprising. "I'm sorry to hear that," Ben finally says. "That's awful timing, Jay, it's got to be frustrating."  
  
"No, it's all right, really, I knew it was going to happen, like, last week." He puts the dessert plates away, then pulls a wine glass from the cabinet. "C'mere."  
  
Ben hesitates, then follows Jamie back into the dining room. Jamie pours two glasses of wine, finishing off the bottle, one for himself, and...and one for Ben. Jamie holds it out to him, quirking a brow, and then, when Ben takes it, he clinks the glasses together and takes a sip. Ben drinks more out of years of learned manners than anything. He already feels like he's lagging behind, like he's missing something. Alcohol's not exactly going to help his mind catch up.  
  
The room goes quiet, the air thick with something that Ben can't quite identify. As awkward as he is, it's normally easy for him to find something to converse about, especially with the lads, but...  
  
Something catches his eye on the table. A box, open, where a necklace formerly sat, and Ben remembers Jamie flashing it at him before dinner, his eyes sparkling, asking in a quiet need for validation if he thought Lucy would like it. Ben tugs the box toward him, tracing over the felt lining. "She liked it, then?" he asks.  
  
"What?" Jamie looks down. "Oh, yeah, she was thrilled. She wore it to work tonight."  
  
"Always a good sign, I've heard." Silence. Ben takes another sip, then hums. "Did she get you something nice too?"  
  
Jamie looks up. Their gazes lock. The clock on the wall ticks loudly.  
  
"...f-for your anniversary," Ben amends. Maybe, maybe Jamie didn't understand the question.  
  
Jamie's eyes flick over Ben's face. "Yeah," he finally says. "Yeah, it was all right."  
  
"That good, huh?" Ben asks, chuckling. It's a forced laugh. He's never been very good at hiding those. He remembers Jamie's laugh in the kitchen, how it had been sharp and abrasive. _He's nervous._ The thought hits him like a car. Adrenaline races through Ben, tingling and dangerous, and he takes a sharp breath to try and calm it.  
  
Jamie takes another sip of wine, then licks his lips clean. "I think I'd like to sit down," he says. "You too, maybe?"  
  
"Sure," Ben says, sounding light and floaty and not at all fully present. "Yeah, okay."  
  
They retire to the living room now, sitting on the couch. Jamie perches on the edge of the cushions, so Ben matches him, watching him closer than he should. A normal man would try to look a little less obvious. Ben, conveniently, has never been normal.  
  
Perhaps something _is_ wrong. Perhaps Ben did something bad. Or maybe Jamie has a heavy topic on his mind and needs a neutral party to discuss it. Scenario after scenario races through Ben's mind, each more logical and yet more frantic than the last, until he can't hold back any longer. "Is everything okay?" he asks again.  
  
Jamie jolts, sitting tall. "Everything's fine."  
  
"I don't think it is," Ben says. He harnesses his logic and pulls it on like armor, using it in the absence of courage. "You're being shifty. You've never offered to help me clean dishes before, not once. And you've given me...wine." He quirks a brow. "Your anniversary wine. The exact wine that was served at your wedding. Which realistically should be saved for your wife."  
  
"What are you, fucking Sherlock Holmes?" Jamie asks as he starts to dimple.  
  
"No," Ben shoots back. He swirls the wine in his glass, watching how the surface ripples. "You're just being obvious.  
  
Jamie's quiet for a moment, long enough that Ben looks up again and gets to see how Jamie's rubbing his beard. "You've, uh, I mean, you've always been perceptive," Jamie finally says with a chuckle. Ben watches Jamie lean back into the couch and cross his arms over his chest as he clears his throat, but even after years in the Scouts and people-watching, nothing can prepare Ben for what comes out of Jamie's mouth next. "Did you ever notice that I fancy blokes?"  
  
Ben's underwater suddenly, lungs collapsed, heart spasming. He couldn't breathe even if he tried. The glass goes loose in his hand, slick with condensation and sweat, and he cradles the base in his palm. One second. Two seconds. Three seconds. He forces his lungs to expand, to keep in time with threes. The word "Oh?" escapes his mouth rather than him thinking to say it.  
  
And Jamie, dear Jamie, his brows are furrowed, his eyes are wide, and his hand is reaching out for Ben, hovering dangerously close to his elbow. "Ebbers?"  
  
_Oh._ Ben lets all his air out and leans back too, almost surprised when the couch catches him rather than sending him straight to the floor. "You used to be attracted to men?" he asks.  
  
Jamie tilts his head to the side. "I didn't 'used to,'" he says. "I never stopped."  
  
The shock is something Ben can't process easily. It's like trying to push a baguette through a colander. He sets the wine aside. Otherwise he'll either chug it or drop it, and neither of those seem like appropriate responses right now. While the shock's held at bay, confusion starts to bleed through. "Why didn't you ever tell me that?" he asks slowly.  
  
"I didn't tell anyone," Jamie says, eyes going even wider. "God, Ben, are you kidding me? You know what people would've said about me? About Barry?"  
  
_About me,_ Ben thinks just as quickly, Ben who couldn't talk to a girl to save his life unless he was doing her homework for her, Ben who was small and scrawny and awkward like the runt of the litter. "You were trying to do us a favor," he says. It's so soft he doubts Jamie can even hear it.  
  
But Jamie does. Jamie's hand settles on his elbow, steadying as a walking staff, just like he's always been. "Myself, too," he admits. He squeezes. "No one else knows, Ben. And right now I'd _rather_ them not know."  
  
Ben nods, barely aware of it. "Not even Lucy?"  
  
Jamie breathes a little laugh, more air than anything, and shakes his head. "She knew from the beginning, I think. Before even I did. But no, we've discussed it, if that's what you mean, and it...actually went better than I ever expected."  
  
"Did you expect it to go badly?" Ben asks, gaze jolting to meet Jamie's. Lucy's as sweet as pudding.  
  
"Well, what do you think, mate?" Jamie asks. "You tell your partner of numerous years that you've got a certain interest in a certain other gender, and you expect her to just wrap you up in her loving arms and say 'there, there'?"  
  
Ben huffs and looks away. The shock is starting to ebb, but his brain is left behind. "Well, I'm...I'm glad you've decided to live more authentically and recognize that part of yourself rather than repressing it," he says. "And I'm happy that you trust me enough to know this part of you when so few others do, but..."  
  
Jamie's hand goes loose again, cupping Ben's elbow rather than squeezing it, a solid, comforting presence. "But?" he prompts.  
  
Ben swallows. "Why me? Why did you tell me?"  
  
Jamie's breath leaves him shakily. "God, Ben, I, uh..." Looking up inundates Ben in the warmth of Jamie's gaze, just enough to send a shiver straight down Ben's arms. "...I thought you might..." Jamie clears his throat, then grins. "You just seemed like you might have some experience there, you know what I mean?"  
  
Too many sensations twist through Ben's body at once, each one grating him down to the marrow. "With men."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Oh, it's a question now, not a statement," Ben says, quirking a brow. "All right."  
  
"No, I-I mean, yeah, I'm..." Jamie digs both hands into his hair and blows out his frustration. "Holy shit, I've had too much wine. I just wanted to know if, if you too, y'know?"  
  
Ben wants to twist his hands in his trousers until he rips a hole in them, but he doesn't. He stands up. "I don't know what you're asking."  
  
And just as fast, Jamie's hands shoot out and grab Ben by the wrists. "Are you attracted to men?" he asks quickly.  
  
"Am I gay?" Ben asks. "Is that what you're asking?"  
  
"I'm asking if you like men, Ebbrell." Jamie doesn't let go and Ben doesn't pull away. "Gay, bi, pan, whatever the fuck else kids have these days, I don't fucking know, I-I just-"  
  
"Yes," Ben says.  
  
Silence. Jamie's hands tremble around Ben's wrists as his cheeks flush. "Yes, you...?"  
  
"Yes, I like men." This is Ben, all right. Ben who gives advice, who provides resources, who will shoulder Jamie's confusion and frustration and then send him into Lucy's arms at the end of the night. "I'm bisexual."  
  
Jamie nods. A sheen of sweat glistens on his brow. "Okay. Wow. Okay. Good."  
  
That's the last thing he expects. "Good?" Ben asks, brow wrinkling.  
  
"Yeah." Jamie tugs. "Sit?"  
  
Why not? Ben sits. And Jamie doesn't let go.  
  
It's not as if they're holding hands, of course, but Jamie holding his wrists feels astoundingly intimate, just enough that Ben's hammering heart nearly blinks out of existence when Jamie begins thumbing at his inner wrist. Right, okay, the nerves there, he'd quite forgotten. Ben feels tingles in his scalp, feels his breath catch in turn. There's no coming back down to the ground during this conversation, not if Jamie's going to touch him, not if Jamie's going to keep it in the realm of the unbelievable.  
  
"You asked about my anniversary gift," Jamie says seriously. "It...was maybe a little more unconventional than usual."  
  
_A strap-on,_ Ben thinks immediately, and he bites his tongue before it flows out.  
  
"Because, like, it turns out that I have the most amazing wife on the planet." Jamie laughs. "Like, absolutely incredible, and I'll never be able to deserve her, because the thing is, Ben, Lucy told me she supports my...my exploration." He leans in an inch. "And I rather hoped that you might be interested in helping with it."  
  
Ben's heart slingshots into his feet and then back again, rattling in his chest. "Y-you want me to be your experiment," he states dully.  
  
"Absolutely not." Jamie's hands ease down and take Ben's, squeezing, and Ben can't even begin to tell which of them has the sweatier palms. "You're not a fucking experiment, y-you're..." He sets his jaw in determination. "I already know who I am, Ben, I've known it for years no matter how hard I ran from it. I don't need an experiment to figure it out. What I _want_ is to know if you're attracted to me. And if you maybe want to see where that takes us."  
  
_Holy shit._ The words echo in Ben's mind like a canyon, cavernous and vast, dancing into the distance and then reflecting back. The one thing he knows is that according to the rules of logic this absolutely isn't happening. His heterosexual and married best friend is not offering an evening to him. It's impossible. But Jamie's here. Jamie's holding his hands. Jamie's staring at him with those incredible eyes of his. And he's not moving.  
  
Ben can't sit here silently all night, so he opens his mouth and tries to figure out what he's going to say. Everything spills out before he's so much as tasted it. "Are you asking if I want to sleep with you?"  
  
Jamie laughs, then squeezes his mouth shut like he's trying to take it back. "Jesus, Ben, I'd settle for just a kiss. Trying to get into my pants already? That's fucking unbelievable."  
  
Ben would love to jump on the train of jokes with Jamie, but he's still suffering whiplash. "You're saying Lucy gave you a night to figure it out. To play around with someone."  
  
"I never said it was only a night," Jamie murmurs, voice as soft and exhilarating as a fresh sprig of mint. "It can be, if you want. And I've got to be honest, Lucy and I have never...we've never done anything like this, been _open_ at all, and I can't guarantee I'd know what it'd look like, but...but it's not gotta be just a night, mate."  
  
"You're serious," Ben whispers. "You're actually serious right now."  
  
"As serious as you are about your silicon bakeware," Jamie confirms.  
  
Ben's laugh surprises him, bubbling up and overflowing. The tremors going through his veins are hard to identify - adrenaline, happiness, desire, or all three? - but he squeezes Jamie's hands back and watches him light up with a grin. "There's no cameras around, are there?"  
  
"Scouts honor," Jamie says.  
  
"Well, now I know you're lying." God, is Ben blushing now? Really? Like he's back in school? He scans the room very deliberately just to hear Jamie laugh, and he takes advantage of it to ask the one clear question on his mind. "Tell me something, Jay, why...why _me?_ "  
  
"What?"  
  
"Why me, not Baz or Mike or James, just...me. Why me?"  
  
"Uh, because you're one of my best friends?" Jamie asks on a chuckle that Ben doesn't recognize. It's sweet and curved at the edges, just intimate enough to draw Ben's gaze back to his. "Because your mouth bloody drives me mad. Because you get this look in your eyes when you're focused on fixing our mistakes that gets me hard every time I see it. Because your hands are the most dangerous erotic weapon I've ever seen. Because when I make you laugh, I touch heaven for just a second and want so badly to take you there too. Because I've fucked my own hand ever since school with you just at the back of my mind." Jamie's eyes flick down to his mouth and linger there. "Take your pick, Ebbers. I can go on all night if you need more."  
  
Every word Jamie says settles in Ben's pants, thick heat and burning adrenaline working in waves until he realizes almost belatedly that he's hard. An erection isn't significant compared to the way he feels like he's being washed clean. "Gosh," that's what he murmurs.  
  
Jamie's grin widens. "That all you have to say?"  
  
"No, no, it's just..." Ben wants to fiddle with his hair, but that would require letting go of Jamie's hands, and that's the last thing he wants to do.  
  
The quiet settles after a few seconds. "Is it nerves?" Jamie asks delicately. "Do you...it's all right if you don't have a lot of experience, Ben."  
  
Ben's eyebrows go into his hairline. "Excuse me?"  
  
"I'm just saying, it's all right." Jamie smiles. "We can learn together, okay?"  
  
Ben opens and closes his mouth three times. "I'm not going to give you references, if that's what you're looking for," he says as patiently and primly as he can. "But I know a little more than you think I do."  
  
Jamie blinks. "...really?"  
  
Ben nods slowly. "Hell yes."  
  
"Oh." Jamie's cheeks go pink again. "Oh, okay."  
  
Listen, things were lonely sometimes. Jamie and Barry paired off as thick as thieves. Mike barely ever showed his face in the school building. James was not only quiet, but younger, someone Ben rarely saw. It wasn't surprising that a twink like Ben would draw eyes, at first from the ones who were curious if they could eat a pure little thing like him alive, and then by the ones who watched the quiet confidence of his cooking, his knowledge, and his sexuality hone him into something dry-humored and interesting.  
  
Anyway, it's not something the lads need to know, really. Not even now, when Jamie's flicking his gaze all over Ben's face like he's seeing him in a new light.  
  
Ben eases an inch closer, watching how Jamie sucks in a sharp breath. "So," he says softly. "You mean it, then? Lucy's cool with this. And you're genuinely interested."  
  
"I am unfathomably interested, Ben," Jamie breathes.  
  
"And, conveniently, so am I," Ben says. "And perhaps have been since we were fifteen."  
  
"Fuck," Jamie whispers, eyes squeezing shut. " _Fuck,_ I wasted time."  
  
"You were preparing," Ben reassures. "Warming up."  
  
"I was being a child, not preheating an oven," Jamie counters. "I was scared."  
  
"And now you're not?" Ben asks, tilting his head.  
  
Jamie snorts. "No, I'm absolutely terrified out of my knickers, actually, but...you know, I don't think you've ever really steered me wrong, have you?"  
  
"I'm not gonna leave you high and dry, if that's what you're worried about."  
  
"No," Jamie murmurs. He thumbs over the back of Ben's hands. "No, I trust you."  
  
Ben leans in further still. "Enough to kiss me?"  
  
Jamie makes a low sound, vulnerable and raw, as he closes the distance between them.  
  
There's too much they haven't discussed, Ben thinks as their lips meet. Ben thrives in a world of casual encounters. He's not yet situated enough in life to take on certain responsibilities - a house, a dog, a partner. And Jamie's as solid a man as he's ever met, happy to wiggle into commitments and make them a part of his identity. They need to sit down, make a chart, compare notes, figure out exactly what they're doing here.  
  
But right now, the brush of Jamie's mouth is enough.  
  
Jamie cups Ben's cheek with a hum as he tilts his head just enough to deepen the kiss, and Ben immediately responds in turn. He twists on the couch as carefully as he can and eases forward, his knee brushing Jamie's leg, and the electricity that shoots through his veins flows straight into Jamie's. It's absolutely incandescent and there's no way that it can be real.  
  
Except it _is._ When Ben touches Jamie's thigh, it's warm under his hand. When Ben lathes his tongue over Jamie's bottom lip, Jamie opens with a sigh. When Ben wraps his hand around the back of Jamie's neck to hold him still, Jamie groans. It's all things that Ben let himself imagine when he was young and green, that he cut to a close the second he realized Jamie and Lucy were serious. But it's here. It's tangible. And it's even better than he could've thought.  
  
Snogging like teenagers is one of Ben's favorite activities, but there's a narrative to every encounter he's ever had, each different than the last, and he's curious what theirs might be. He pulls back, then chuckles when Jamie chases his mouth. "Hey, hold on, wait a second."  
  
"You okay?" Jamie asks with wide eyes.  
  
"No, yeah, I'm perfect." He wants to bury his face in Jamie's neck and breathe him in for a thousand years, but he needs this first. "I-I need to know where you want this to go tonight, Jay."  
  
Jamie looks overwhelmed at the idea, both hands going to hold Ben's face, to brush over the hints of stubble growing in the evening. "God, anything, _everything,_ whatever you want, love."  
  
The pet name rings inside of Ben. It's something he's heard give to Lucy a million times and wonders in both excitement and nerves if Jamie feels toward Ben even a tenth of what he feels toward Lucy. "Can I touch you?" Ben asks. He's just breathless enough to be flustered and just distracted enough not to care.  
  
"Anywhere you want." Jamie presses their foreheads together and steals another quick kiss.  
  
Ben hums, nibbling at Jamie's bottom lip and hearing him gasp. "Over clothes? Under?"  
  
Jamie's fingers sink into Ben's hair and tug, shaky and desperate, pulling him closer still. "Yeah," he whispers.  
  
"And if I put my mouth on your cock?" Ben asks. "Would you like that?"  
  
" _Fuck,_ Ebbers," Jamie groans with a laugh twinkling around the edges. "You really want to?"  
  
"On one condition," Ben says, his hands breezing up Jamie's thighs, his hips, his waist in a second.  
  
Jamie turns his head and presses their cheeks together. "Anything," he whispers against his ear.  
  
Ben moves seamlessly, throwing a leg over his hip, running his hands up Jamie's back and sinking his fingers into his shoulders, pulling until they're chest to chest where Ben can nip at Jamie's ear. "Call me Ben. Not, not Ebbers, I-I want to hear it."  
  
"What if I call you 'sir?'" Jamie teases.  
  
Ben growls, the sound surprising even him, and rocks his hips down into Jamie's lap. "Next time," he whispers just before he ravages Jamie's ear with his teeth.  
  
Rolling his hips into Jamie's is as simple as breathing. He's done this a hundred times on a hundred couches, but never against someone so soft and full who feels as warm as a hearth and as safe as home. He tastes Jamie's skin in between bites: sucking at his earlobe, marking the tender shell of his ear, leaving kisses on the sensitive skin of the pressure point just behind. He wants to catalogue Jamie's sounds - his moans and his swears - and put them in a museum where he can sample them like a delicacy a little at a time. But tonight he's a glutton. He'll drown in them. He'll fill himself with them until he aches.  
  
The weak, shivering way that Jamie says his name - _"Ben!"_ \- like a supplication and a surrender all at once, it's enough to drive Ben mad. He could do this all night, just this, just grinding down on him and marking every inch of his ear and his neck until Jamie comes in his trousers. And God, what a lovely image that is. Would he take to edging? Would he take to pain? Would he let Ben take full control of him for a night?  
  
Jamie's hands grab Ben by the arse and pull him in sharper. Ben's rhythm is thrown off, and he fights to catch up to Jamie's pace. "You can fuck me one day," Ben says shakily. "Take me to your bed, fill me up with your fingers and your cock."  
  
"N-not yet," Jamie stammers. "No, it's, Lucy, she wants, the bed's off limits, it's..."  
  
Logical. This is a huge enough step. That Lucy needs a sanctified space for her and Jamie alone isn't surprising or insulting in the least. "Your couch, then, right here," Ben parries. "The floor, the table. Fuck me anywhere, Jamie."  
  
"Fuck." Jamie drags Ben down and holds him there, an aching pressure against their cocks where Ben swears he can feel Jamie twitch in his trousers. "Kiss me, Ben."  
  
And he does, God, he does. He's not even sure how the world tilts like it does, until Jamie's pressed against the arm of the couch and Ben's scrambling to tuck his knees on either edge of the cushion around Jamie's thick thighs, but it's even sweeter somehow. Ben twists his tongue around Jamie's as he shifts, shoving Jamie's legs open, sliding his lean hips between them. Jamie squeezes his thighs around Ben's hips and he's a bloody goner.  
  
Jamie's thick under his palm, his moans vibrating against Ben's mouth. It's not a surprise. All the lads always joked about Jamie being hung just from a peek at him in his pants alone. Ben's mouth probably shouldn't water like it does, but fuck, he's only so strong a man. He has to let his base desires out once and a while, _especially_ if that baseness involves getting a cock in his mouth.  
  
Ben has to break the kiss to work at Jamie's belt with both hands, to pop the button on his trousers. "You could've planned for this better, you know," he teases. "Worn a pair of pajamas, something, anything faster to get off than these."  
  
"Oi," Jamie snaps back. "Next time I'll buy me some button flies, you'll see."  
  
"I'll cut them off," Ben says. He flicks his gaze up. "You've seen me with a knife, Jamie, don't tempt me."  
  
Jamie's eyes go wide. He looks positively ruined, mouth flushed and swollen, cheeks beet red, eyes glassy. Where his thoughts have gone, Ben can only guess, but it's left him ravenous in response. He yanks down Jamie's trousers and pants all in one go, nails scratching down Jamie's hips, and looks down.  
  
It takes a moment for Ben to remember how to speak. "Honestly, that's just unfair."  
  
"Shut up," Jamie says with a chuckle. He ruins Ben's hair with one hand, but the gentle way he's cupping the back of his head is lovely, sends tingles all down his body. "You talked a big game, Mr. Experience." Jamie pleasantly scratches his scalp and Ben's eyelashes flutter. "Put your money where your mouth is, c'mon."  
  
"All that bravado," Ben shoots back dryly. He puts his hands on Jamie's pelvic bone, a breath away from his cock. "I think you're asking to be 69'd, mate."  
  
"You want to be responsible for my murder?" Jamie asks even as he wiggles under him. "For choking me to death on my own couch?"  
  
"Not into choking, then?" Ben asks, easing down between his legs.  
  
Jamie stares at him. "...holy shit, Ben, what the hell have you been up to these years?"  
  
Ben flashes him a grin. "I'll show you, if you want," he says, and then he takes Jamie's cock in his mouth.  
  
"Oh shit," Jamie breathes, his fingers going tight in his hair. "Fuck, Ben, _fuck._ "  
  
There's a lull in Ben's mind as he settles into the weight of Jamie's cock on his tongue. It's been a while. Several months. The last time he remembers taking someone this thick involved a lot of facefucking, gagging, bending over a trash can while the man laughed. He rather hopes Jamie will be kinder. The facefucking, that's not too bad, but the mockery? Well. If he had the energy to feel the residual anger and shame over it, he would, but he's back to dragging his tongue over the head of Jamie's cock and tasting his precum.  
  
Ben moans, eyes falling shut as he sucks languidly, barely even deigning to move his neck. There's a simple pleasure in this, he's discovered, in learning the shape of the head on his tongue, in teasing at the sensitive skin around it, in exploring the thin slit. Jamie doesn't rush him. No, he lies there and makes the most distracting noises that Ben thinks will tease at him even in his dreams.  
  
It's when Ben tickles his fingers over Jamie's hips that Jamie shifts, half-smiling and covering his mouth just after. God, he's beautiful. He's fucking gorgeous, and Ben has him here right under his hands. Something unfamiliar swells in Ben's chest, putting pressure on his ribs, but it pairs nicely with the pressure in his trousers too, so he goes with it.  
  
Ben pulls off to wrap his hand around Jamie's cock and give it a few tugs. "Have you and Lucy experimented much?"  
  
Jamie bucks at that, gasping, then laughs. "Sorry," he says, covering his face with his whole hand. "Oh wow, I have absolutely never thought about you both when my knob's being played with, fuck, that was a live wire."  
  
There's something Ben could ask there, something dangerous and exciting and inviting, but he pulls back. One question at a time. "Has she ever fucked your arse?"  
  
Jamie groans. His hips stir in little circles, following Ben's touch. "No, not, no, she hasn't."  
  
"Is that something you'd be interested in?" Ben asks. He sucks a finger into his mouth.  
  
"I-I don't know," Jamie stammers. "It's, that's a lot, doesn't it hurt?"  
  
"Do you want it to hurt?" Ben tilts his head.  
  
"Not especially." Jamie peeks down. "Why?"  
  
"I just wanted to know if I could touch you there," Ben says. "Not penetrating. Just teasing."  
  
Jamie stares at Ben hard, the weight of his gaze pressing Ben even harder into the couch. "If I didn't like it, would you stop?" he asks tentatively.  
  
Ben lets go, touching Jamie's thighs in what he hopes is a grounding motion. "Jay," he murmurs, "just say the word and I'll stop anything. I promise."  
  
It takes a moment for the words to settle in, but then Jamie nods. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right." He pulls back so he can sit a little taller, perhaps so he can have a better view. "Yeah, okay, do it."  
  
Ben beams up at him. "Thank you," he says brightly, then goes back to mouthing at Jamie's dick. His finger is still slick with his own saliva, and he teases a path over Jamie's balls, feels how hot and weighty they are. They're distracting enough, especially while Ben is slowly easing further and further down his cock. But he has another goal in mind. And when his finger rubs over the texture of Jamie's hole, Ben flicks his eyes up.  
  
The way Jamie bucks, brows bunching up and eyes going unfocused, it's absolutely beautiful. Ben doesn't even care that he nearly gags on Jamie, not when Jamie's slamming his hips down and murmuring what's perhaps supposed to be an apology instead of a mismatch of syllables that don't match up to anything but _holy fucking shit._ Ben's never quite mastered grinning around a dick, but he can practically feel his own eyes light up.  
  
Ben is satisfied with this, blowing Jamie, teasing at his arse, trying to burn a path through Jamie's mind that he won't soon forget. He loves watching how Jamie's body flushes, how Jamie has to push his shirt up so he doesn't overheat just from the sensations racing through him. His body rolls and shakes with the way he pants and moans and _begs._  
  
He loses all track of time. Fuck, by the time Jamie is grabbing Ben's head in both hands and saying "Shit, Ben, I-I'm gonna, I-I-" Ben has to force himself to snap out of the languid headspace he's in. He shakes Jamie's hands off before Jamie can pull him off and holds his gaze as he eases down and _sucks,_ and the way Jamie cries out is enough to make Ben never want to blink again. Not if it means missing Jamie. Missing any of this.  
  
Ben gives a few more soft bobs of his head, dragging out the sensation cruelly, before he pulls off and lays messy kisses over Jamie's hip. "Yeah?" Ben asks, his voice a little gravely from Jamie's cock. "What's the rating on that experience, then?"  
  
Jamie makes a fine attempt at language, then settles for a silent thumbs up.  
  
"Excellent." Ben beams again as he sits up. "Do you need anything? A towel? Water?"  
  
Jamie stares at him incredulously. "Cuddles?" he demands.  
  
"Oh!" Not everyone's liked those, in his personal experience, but Ben drapes himself over Jamie and wraps his arms around him. "This good?"  
  
"This perfect," Jamie says eloquently. He buries a hand in Ben's hair, claims his waist with the other, and hides against his neck. He begins making a low sound, sort of like screaming with a closed mouth.  
  
Ben pets him. He understands. "I didn't quite catch that last part, Jay, maybe try enunciating just a little clearer this time."  
  
Jamie lifts his head and yells directly into Ben's ear instead.  
  
"Better," Ben says, laughing. He kisses Jamie. "You all right?"  
  
"I'm _spectacular!_ " Jamie kisses him much more messily. " _God,_ Ben, where've you been hiding that mouth?"  
  
"Behind roughly three and a half layers of sarcasm," Ben replies. "You're incredible warm, good Lord."  
  
"I wonder why," Jamie says dryly. They sit there for a long few seconds, cuddling, soaking each other in. "How do you want me to get you off?"  
  
Ben analyzes Jamie's tone, the tentativeness and nerves inside of it. "Is this the only time you wanna do this?" he asks.  
  
"No. Absolutely not." Jamie's hands are restless as they run up and down his back. "No, I want to do this very many times."  
  
It's a balm on Ben's unspoken concerns. "Then right now, all I want is cuddles," he says. "Just closeness. It's nice. There's oxytocin released, you know, through the contact of-"  
  
"You're a nerd," Jamie murmurs, muffled by Ben's neck.  
  
Ben grins. "Shut up," he whispers affectionately.  
  
So this...this is happening. This is a thing. It's not just something out of a dream or one of Ben's drunken fantasies. It happened and it's _okay._ And it can happen again.  
  
Ben could let himself be intimidated by that if he wanted. He doesn't do things other than casual, and he doesn't have plans on maturing beyond that stage either. He likes his strongest commitment being to his herb garden. But...maybe something casually long term with Jamie isn't bad either, yeah?  
  
Or maybe it's wholly illogical. But right now, with Jamie's cologne in his nose, he doesn't give a damn.  
  
Ben breaks the silence long minutes later when a question settles on his mind. "Was that really your only anniversary gift?"  
  
Jamie clears his throat. "She also bought a strap-on."  
  
"Ah. Good luck."  
  
Jamie mumbles against Ben's neck and Ben chuckles. He'll tease him more later, he thinks. Maybe after a nap.


End file.
